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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23300269">I Grow Monstrous in Your Absence</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDarkivist/pseuds/TheDarkivist'>TheDarkivist</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Crack Treated Seriously, M/M, Not Beta Read, Not Canon Compliant, Spoilers, Spoilers for the S5 trailer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 12:22:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>826</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23300269</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDarkivist/pseuds/TheDarkivist</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Listened to the S5 trailer, had a moment, bon appétit. SPOILERS FOR THE S5 TRAILER.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>66</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>I Grow Monstrous in Your Absence</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jon closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. Even speaking feels like too much effort now, effort he could put into something else, effort that’s going to be useless, one way or another. He might as well humour Martin and explain himself.</p><p>“I told you. It’s gone. It’s all gone. There’s no more tea left.”</p><p>“… I’ll tell you what, I’ll pop into the village and see what I can find. You just wait here and… just wait, okay?”</p><p>It’s one of those moments when he’d usually snap. The irritation comes to him easily, more easily than even the Beholding, but instead, he laughs. It’s not a happy laugh, or a particularly pleasant one, but it’s something. “What? Are you worried I’ll go get myself turned into an even bigger monster while you’re gone?”</p><p>“Jon, that’s not what I’m saying.”</p><p>“I know. You’re too kind to say it, but the fact remains that this is the end. There’s no more tea anywhere. It vanished and it’s my fault.”</p><p>Martin sits down across the table from Jon and takes his hand into his. How can it be the end when Jon’s fingers fit into the gaps in between Martin’s so perfectly? “It’s just tea. For all the planning Elias put into this, it could be much worse. Tea ceased to exist, so what? This would maybe make a splash in the 19<sup>th</sup> century, but pretty much everyone drinks coffee now.”</p><p>There is that dear, familiar crease between Jon’s brows. “You don’t understand, tea is the only thing that keeps England going. Once England falls, it’s over for everyone and there will be no fixing this.”</p><p>Martin blinks. Beholding slips Jon a thought, a comparison. Martin really does look like his father, but he’s not leaving and, no, Jon doesn’t know what he did to deserve that, to endear himself to Martin so. Then, finally, he speaks: “England isn’t the centre of the universe. When... when you were talking about being an unchanging monster, did you mean that you now got the world view of a privileged Victorian man?”</p><p>Jon flinches, his hands flying to his face as his eyes widen in terror. “I… I’m not sure.”</p><p>His partner makes sure to keep his tone even, reassuring. “Let’s try. What do you think about helping the poor?”</p><p>The Archive scoffs and crosses his arms over his chest. “It’s their own moral failings that cause them to...” His face turns ashen in terror before he can even finish. “Oh god, you’re right.”</p><p>Martin takes a deep breath, stands up and walks over to Jon. Then he wraps his arms around him and kisses the top of his head. “It’s much worse than I feared, but at least we know what we’re working with here. We’ll get through this.”</p><p>“We still have the original problem.”</p><p>“No, we don’t. Some people will be cranky. Elias… Jonah… that bastard will simply have to make do without tea and I don’t really care if his Victorian sensibilities suffer. I like chocolate better anyway.”</p><p>Jon buries his face in the welcoming warmth of Martin’s embrace, as if the closeness could restore some of his optimism, if he ever had any. “But <em>I</em>-”</p><p>Martin’s frame grows tense, as he carefully pulls away. Jon knows what his eyes look like clouded with the Lonely, but now they’re simply blue. Blue like the cornflowers in the fields outside. “Jon, I need to tell you something. I didn’t want to do this, but you don’t <em>need </em>tea.”</p><p>“What? Of course, I do, the tea you made me was sometimes the only thing that stopped me from firing everyone in the room and then myself.”</p><p>Martin shuts his eyes, almost painfully so, and Jon immediately misses the eye contact, the brief brush of souls. “I never made you tea, Jon.I’m sorry.”</p><p>“I don’t understand. You’re the only person who can make it the way I like it.”</p><p>“Just listen, okay? The first time I wanted to make you a cuppa, Elias took the last of it, right in front of me and… you were being a bit of an asshole that day, so Tim suggested we prank you and Sasha didn’t stop us and you looked like you liked it so much and-”</p><p>“What have I been drinking all those years?” Jon demands to know, while simultaneously wishing to forget this conversation ever took place.</p><p>“Hot milk with sugar and, like, a teaspoon of pepper. And pencil shavings. I didn’t know how to tell you, but I’m honestly shocked you didn’t realise it until now. We’ll be fine. The ritual will collapse as soon as Elias gets withdrawals.”</p><p>Jon went through all the stages of grief, and invented several more on his way from one second to another. “You scare me sometimes, Martin.”</p><p>“Good. I should. Care for your cup of hot, sweet pencil and pepper milk?”</p><p>“In a cat mug?”</p><p>“In a cat mug.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>My gift for everyone who's not ready to get hurt. Yes, all the ritual did was to make all tea disappear. Stay strong.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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